The Reign of Mummy
by Sleeping Dragons Die
Summary: His pretend girlfriend hates his every fiber of existence, he’s expected to be best friends with the Golden Gang and sneaky Blaise Zabini, and, worst of all, mummy’s coming to teach at Hogwarts.
1. Default Chapter

THE REIGN OF MUMMY

_Default Diddums_

_     Bad Boy_, wrote Draco Malfoy carefully on the top of his paper, quill tip still moist from the interior of his mouth. The reference book open in front of him was fairly new; the spine was uncreased and there were no marks on the pages. He smirked to himself as he read the definition the book provided him with and wondered briefly if Granger had known how accurate she was in calling him that before she slapped him for the eighth time so far this academic year. He leant back in the library chair and grinned to himself. Bad Boy, yes that was him. Perfect. Now to find a muggle phrase that would both insult the chipmunk look-alike and stupefy her with his knowledge of muggles. This was shaping up to be a great day, and it was only two in the afternoon.

'Draco?' snapped a rather irritated voice from behind him, and he span around slowly.

     Blaise Zabini was standing behind his chair, arms akimbo and scowling. He was carrying a parchment which had clearly been ripped in three straight columns; the homework formerly known as potions. His hair was more ruffled than normal and his nose looked as if it had been vigorously pecked. Sitting on his shoulder, rather smugly, was an enormous eagle owl carrying a letter in its mail pouch.

'Get your _animal_ off my shoulder – ARGH!' Blaise had received a hasty swipe from the bird, which preferred to be referred to as Horatio.

'Horatio,' Draco patted the edge of the desk three times and the bird flopped down onto it with a purposeful lack of grace which involved sidling down Zabini's tie and ripping it.

'Bloody _bird_,' the other boy muttered, stalking off angrily towards the potion's department of the library.

     Horatio gave an angry caw at the retreating Slytherin and nuzzled Draco's hand happily. The chocolate treat emerged, the frog still hopping, and he set into it; ripping the legs off and then joyfully guzzling the head before finishing the confectionary off. If the frog had been able to scream, doubtless it would have. Draco unravelled the letter cautiously; half afraid it would spit Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans at him as the last one had.

     It was from his mother of course. The parchment was soft under his fingers as she'd enchanted it to be. If anyone else touched it, it would be like sandpaper against their fingers. It also tended to turn Blaise yellow, which was definitely an interesting side effect. He scanned it hastily for important news, leaving out the last two paragraphs which were always fully of social gossip – not exactly interesting for a seventeen turning eighteen year old boy as it rarely contained any quidditch, sex or humiliations.

_Dearest darlingest Draco_, it read

_Smoochums, I'm terribly sorry I haven't sent you a parcel. Larks, I'm so dreadfully busy packing. The houselves are being atrocious – Poddy keeps folding my tights the wrong way round, which naturally makes them more prone to weakening on the ladderless charms. Anyway, I hope dear Hermione is alright – you treat her as any good boyfriend should, you understand. I'm so happy you chose to ask her out, what a show of repentance for the Malfoy family, and of your own choice. Give my love to Harry and Ron as well, darling, such a better choice of friends than that awful Crabbe and Goyle. Oh, and say hello to Blaise for me as well. _

_Anyway, lovely, I don't know why I'm asking you to send my greetings – I shall see them all anyway! Oh, it's so exciting. Pudding, I have to fly now._

_Always loving,_

_Mummy_

_P.S. How utterly ditzy! I completely forgot to tell you what I wrote this letter to tell you! Darling, I know you'll be so happy. Professor Dumbledore is allowing me to move into Hogwarts to run a course on What Happens in the Families of Those Affected by Dark Arts!!! I'll be there tomorrow!_

Draco Malfoy sat stunned for a moment. His mummy, coming here? To Hogwarts?

'CRAP!' he wrote in capital letters across his parchment, repetitively.

'_Malfoy_!' came a shrill voice from the aisle he had his back to, 'Malfoy you utter slime ball!'

     Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts, was storming up the gap between bookshelves. Her neatly ringleted hair was tied into a messy ponytail on top of her head, and bits were falling down to frame her pale face. Beneath her obligatory robes she wore a pair of loose jeans and a purple sweatshirt, and on her feet were a pair of purple ballet style pumps. In seventh and sixth years full uniform was not necessary, only the outer robe. In Hermione's case the robe was ornamented with the Gryffindor house emblem and her Head girl badge. Her eyebrows were pinched together angrily, and she was peering down towards him through a pair of small glass spectacles which she wore for reading.

    There was a tiny second year Ravenclaw following her meekly, his shirt bearing three large rip marks, and his face bleeding heavily. Tears were still falling down his face. Draco desperately looked around for Horatio, and to his horror saw him levitating some three feet behind the pair marching towards him.

'Look what your bird's done!' the Head Girl shrieked loudly, gesturing at the injured boy, 'It's a bloody menace! It shouldn't even be in the Library, you know that!'

'Let my bird go, Granger,' he said icily, standing up so that she had to peer up at him, 'It's valuable.'

'So are students,' Hermione waved the boy back a pace as she stepped forward so that they were almost chest to chest.

'I'm sure all his possessions don't add up to the amount I paid for Horatio.'

'This is why I absolutely detest you Malfoy!' she hissed under her breath, 'You're arrogant, cocky and inconsiderate!'

'Dear me, Chipmunk, shouldn't be bringing personal vendettas into this, should you? Might loose you that shiny badge.'

     Her hand had made contact with his face long before he could react; as it had done so many times he lost count. He never knew when to expect her violent abuse of his fair skin, and could never stop her doing so. Something made him loathe to twist her arm behind her back, or curse her in any way. He put it down to breeding.

'I will be telling professor Snape about this, believe me.'

     He didn't believe her. She never did tell his Head of House about what she termed his 'atrocities' for a reason he couldn't fathom. She marched the little boy away towards the Hospital Wing, patting his shoulder and whispering encouraging words to him to try and stop him crying. Horatio sank down to the floor, still frozen.

'What am I going to do?' Draco asked the petrified bird in desperation.

'About what, Malfoy?' Blaise Zabini looked interested, sticking his head around the next shelf.

'My mother's coming here tomorrow,' Draco muttered, sitting down again.

'Ah. She doesn't still think you're best friends with me and the wonder gang does she?'

'Worse. Much worse. IaccidentallytoldherIwasgoingoutwithChipmunk.'

     Zabini chortled. He howled with mirth. He laughed until tears were streaming down his eyes, and he had to lean on the books for support.

'How,' he gasped out at last, 'how did you manage to accidentally tell your mother you were going out with Hermione Granger?'

     Draco said nothing. He couldn't. There was nothing to say.

'This is the Hermione Granger who just slapped you again? The one you dubbed Chipmunk? The one who's best friends with Wonder Boy and The Rodent?'

'YES!' exploded Draco after a moment of silence, 'YES! That one!'

'Uh-hu. The one who's going steady with Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United?'

'She's _what_?'


	2. From Oliver Dearest

**The Reign of Mummy**

From Oliver dearest

'Oliver Wood,' murmured Draco Malfoy, pacing his bedroom floor anxiously, 'bloody _hell_, Oliver Wood.'

It was half five in the morning, and the Slytherin hadn't yet slept. Even Blaise Zabini, who had hung around him in the hopes of antagonising him further had left at three, rolling his eyes. The separate seventh year rooms meant that Draco could pace and stalk and angrily throw things whenever he pleased, and mostly it was the photograph of his mother, beaming happily and waving, which was used to being thrown and generally just bounced back thanks to the numerous charms covering it. The green brocade curtains hung feverishly open, showing a dark ground, with a few lights twinkling here and there – presumably fairies or Hagrid. He snorted at the image.

'Of course!' he exclaimed suddenly, his burning eyes happening to fall on a book stacked haphazardly on the shelf.

_Frivolity and Fortune_ was the title his latest whore had brought with her, to read while he bathed, and had been cast on the shelf in the throes of passion by the dark haired sixth year Ravenclaw. He meanwhile, had had the phrase 'lie back and think of England' running through his head. It was the most excruciatingly boring sex he had ever had. The book cover showed a young man kneeling in front of his scantily clad damsel, in armour, with his horse standing behind them on its fore legs as it kicked. Draco had snorted, and in a particularly boring moment, while she writhed, had worked out the angles, and deduced that when the stallion landed it would kick the man's head in.

'She's a _Gryffindor_!' he triumphantly explained to his empty room, 'She'll fall for the begging move – I'll tell her mother's gone _slightly_ deranged from Crucio being cast on her and is convinced that we're in love. She'll be so sorry for her that she'll agree to anything!'

And with that he gathered himself into his black cloak, rearranged his slightly ruffled hair and excited the Slytherin lair.

Fifth Floor, six hours past midnight

The Head Girl's room was on the fifth floor, opposite Fluffy's room, although Draco didn't know that, and the three headed dog was long gone. He knelt outside the thick wooden door, far enough away to avoid being hit by it as it swung open, but near enough to be sitting in a convenient patch of moonlight that made his hair shine like molten silver. He arranged a suitably angelically tortured expression on his face and waited patiently for the Head Girl to make her six o'clock rounds.

Hermione was running late. Oliver, her steady boyfriend of the last year (she giggled softly when she thought of him) had sent a large package at five, which she had been busy unpacking. She slipped on the dark aubergine cloak which served as casual, and her slippers, and sped out of the door.

There was a short, sharp shriek of surprise

Draco felt a warm body miss his head and tumble over his kneeling posture

The Head Girl fell face forward down the three steps that separated her rooms from the Head Boy's and landed, with a groan and another gasp of horror, on her nose.

'Merlin!' bellowed the partially winded Slytherin, scrambling to his feet.

'Malfoy' choked out Hermione through a broken nose, 'Bhat are you boing, bou imbecile?'

'Granger?' questioned the Head Boy through his door sleepily, 'What the hell is going on?'

'Bothing, Charbles, bothing,' reassured Hermione, getting to her feet and cradling her nose in agony.

'Crap, Granger, you're bleeding everywhere!'

'Bull marbks Malfoy,' she commented sarcastically, and motioned him away from the other room. 'Bow, bhat the bhell do you bwant?'

'Granger, you're practically unintelligible. _Mendus_.'

'Oh thanks. Took you bloody well long enough.'

Granger was beginning to sulk. Now, Draco, now, urged his mind and he dropped on one knee. She looked mildly startled as he almost gripped the hem of her cloak in his palms. He carefully arranged his features to look mildly pathetic.

'Granger,' he began dramatically, 'I need you.'

'And Oliver needs to punch you, you _creep_!' she hissed, in what would have been a shriek if she was going to risk waking the Ravenclaw Head boy.

'Not like that Granger,' he groaned, mildly disgusted, 'it's my mother.'

'Your mother?' she sounded disbelieving.

'She's coming here tomorrow.'

'Ah – the lectures on how black magic affects families. I wondered who would be doing them.'

'Well, it's my mother.'

'How embarrassing. Imagine if she calls you _Drakie Poo_ in front of the whole school _again_.'

'Stop the snide comments please! This is serious!'

Malfoy sounded terribly frantic and upset, so Hermione, bearing in mind her Head girl duties, paused and composed herself.

'What's wrong Malfoy?' she forced out through gritted teeth, 'bearing in mind I am not favourably disposed towards you – you have, if you need reminding, spent the last six years antagonising me, and this year in particular focused your attentions personally on my person.'

'Look Granger,' he gambled, 'this isn't about me. It's about my mother. She thinks you're my girlfriend.'

'She _What_?' and this time Hermione did shriek, but there was no response from the Head boy suite.

'It was my father,' Draco spoke rapidly, trying to convince her before she stormed off, 'He crucio'd her six, seven times a week.'

And there it was. The slight hesitation in Granger's brow as she relaxed her furrowed eyebrows, that softly sympathetic glow, the pursuing of her lips, and finally, the nibble that meant he was in there. He almost danced.

'Oh. Your poor mother.'

'Anyway,' Draco moved on, trying out a hurt look that apparently signified he didn't want to pursue the subject any further because it was upsetting, 'She's convinced I became best friends with Potter and you – luckily not Weasley or I'd be done for – and then you and I fell in love.'

There was a moment's silence as Hermione processed this, and leant back against the wall.

'She's gone deranged, a little,' he added, in case she hadn't got the message.

'As tragic as that is, Mal-Dr, Ferret,' she agreed on finally, 'what does it have to do with me?'

'I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.'

Stupefied silence.

'Only until the end of term – five weeks, Granger, that's all. For mother.'

Antagonizing silence, in which Draco gave a fake sniffle.

'Fine!' she snapped angrily, 'fine! But what are you going to tell Oliver when word gets back to him?'

Great Hall, eight hours past midnight

'And of course, Oliver's not to know!' she finished loudly and angrily, 'Me! Keeping secrets from Oliver, who happens to have been my loyal boyfriend for two years?'

'Are you going to do it?' Harry Potter asked, attempting to look unconcerned and failing.

'What else can I do Harry?' she almost wailed, 'his poor, poor mother'll be heartbroken if I don't. And after all her suffering…'

'Shhh, here comes Ron.'

'Harry, you have to help. You have to pretend to be his best friend!'

'Alright, alright. Shurrup!'

Ronald Weasley was not going to be in on the plan, an executive decision taken by Hermione and Malfoy at approximately half seven, in an alcove close to the hall on the way to breakfast. He emerged that morning at eight, scratching his ear and inspecting his fingernail as he sat down, and waving a hand at his friends; seated with false smiles at the breakfast table.

'Pancake, Ron?' asked Hermione, pushing the bowl towards him.

'Maple syrup, Ron?' Harry pushed the small boat towards him, an edgy smile inhabiting his face.

'What's up with you two this morning?' Ron asked, having just recently gotten over the grunting stage of replies.

'Oh, nothing. The new instructor's coming today.' Harry replied smoothly, cutting his sausage up with short, sharp strokes.

There was a rather highly pitched voice chattering with Snape's this morning as he strode along the corridor. She was discussing levitating trunks, and he methods of restriction for seventh years. When he pushed open the Great Hall doors all attention was commanded, and so the coming of Narcissa Black-Malfoy was not unheeded by the students of Hogwarts.

'Drakie!' she gushed suddenly.

Narcissa was a commanding woman. She was very tall and slim, with long legs and a wealth of blonde hair that moved when she walked as her hips did. She did suffer from that unfortunate expression of looking as if she had smelt a bad smell, but when she smiled it was almost shy and easily made up for that inadequate expression. She was far more frail and delicate that her son was, but not so much that you couldn't see the similarities.

'Mother,' he drawled, and she looked almost hurt before she waved cheerily at him.

On the Gryffindor table, Neville Longbottom, seeing how close his future instructor had walked to Snape, had collapsed into his bowl of porridge with a sigh of desolation. Lavender and Parvati had admired her silk robes, complained about her son and moved back to gossiping about the hottest couple of the moment – Hermione and Oliver Wood (Hogwarts was a little starved for gossip at this point). Ginny was regarding her curiously, having no idea why she was here. Ron was sitting frozen to his spot, looking as if he had swallowed a large furry animal which was about to choke him. Harry and Hermione were giving each other encouraging, buoyant looks and breathing deeply.

'Good morning professor Dumbeldore,' she greeted, revelling in the utter silence of the hall.

'Ah, Mrs Malfoy, how charming. And Severus, I see you have joined us for breakfast. Excellent, excellent. Now, Mrs Malfoy, perhaps Draco, already making his way up here, will introduce you to the students you need to know – our Head boy and girl, and so forth. And then of course he will escort you to your new rooms. I believe he has frees this morning?'

'Yes sir,' answered the surprisingly meek Slytherin, smiling at his mother.

'Draco, darling,' she leant over and whispered, 'I want to meet _all_ your charming friends.'

'There are complications, mummy, but of course.'

'Complications?' she shrewdly questioned.

Draco was luckily saved from the question by the arrival of the first owls into the hall, and the accompanying rush of sound as every student craned their neck upwards to glimpse their family owl. They came in a steady stream this morning, as it was raining heavily, and never failed to look surprised that the rain falling from the ceiling didn't hit them unless they had board here.

'This is Charles Banbar,' Draco began, passing the Ravenclaw tables on his voyage to the Gryffindor abode, 'Head boy.'

Charles Banbar stood up and bowed deeply, until his nose was almost buttered by his toast. He was a handsome boy, with traditional dark looks, who had remained quiet until his sixth year, when it transpired he was friends with almost every student in the entire school at his birthday party.

'A pleasure Mrs Malfoy,' he said smoothly, and Draco hustled his mother away before she said something about his tie, which had been dangling in his friend's porridge, much to the stifled laughter of the Ravenclaw posse.

'The Gryffindor table,' he murmured as he approached, 'and remember, I'll explain everything _later_.'

Impressions of the red table were favourable from a distance, and Draco almost relaxed. They were chattering and laughing, pointing at each others letters, and occasionally a seventh or sixth year reached over to wipe porridge off Longbottom's face, which was becoming steadily paler. Hermione was watching their progress with a slightly nervous eye, and Harry was watching the windows for letters. Weasley was glowering at a letter from his brother Charlie (it was crispy and burnt).

'Oh Hermione!' came a fatal shriek from Lavender, who had been watching the windows for a particular

hawk, 'A letter! From your boyfriend! From Oli--'

Hermione was so quick that half the table missed it. She had grasped Lavender's blonde head, smiled at the girl apologetically, and pushed her head straight down into the bowl of chocolate rice crispies she had been enjoying.

'Lavender!' shrieked Parvati, and pulled her spluttering best friend up.

Lavender was truly a sight to behold. Her face was covered in chocolate milk, and everywhere sat little clumps of soggy, sticky rice crispies. They perched merrily in her nose, on her eyebrows, above her lips, in her hair; and to make matters worse there was a flash of light and the dreaded Creevey Camera had come out.

'Come on!' Parvati screeched, and they both rushed straight out of the hall, pushing past Mrs Malfoy and Draco, who gave them very amused looks.

'Mrs Malfoy,' Hermione had crept up to them in all the commotion, 'I'm Hermione Granger, Head girl.'

'Hermione!' Narcissa gave all her attention to the brunette, 'How are you darling? I feel like I know you already.'

Hermione sent Draco a slightly panicked glance as the hall quietened down.

'Mum,' Draco distracted her smoothly, 'don't waste time. That's Potter, and that's Weasley.'

By now the large black hawk had landed on Hermione's plate and was chewing on her bacon rinds. It was eyeing her in a distinctly suspicious way, as was Ron.

'Smoochy,' Narcissa spoke to Draco, 'Did you get a new bird?'

'What? Oh yes.'

It was Dumbeldore who saved their lies before they had even got going. He rang the bell for lessons and smiled genially at them all.

'Lessons, everyone, lessons. Go and fill our heads with knowledge – do try and stay awake at least.'

'Ancient Runes!' grasped Hermione gratefully, 'My books!'

'Goodbye Hermione sweety,' waved Narcissa as she sped out of the hall, and then turned to Draco.

'Mummy,' he said, satisfied that no one would hear them over the tremendous rush to get to lessons, 'the thing is, Hermione and I are keeping our relationship secret.'

'Oh,' Mrs Malfoy said unhappily, a little smile vanishing from her lips, 'but smoochums, you will let me come and see her, won't you.'

Her son fell for the pathetic look hook, line and sinker. He caved in. He flopped. He folded. He gave in. he admitted defeat before his mother.

'Of course you can mummy,' he whispered, 'but don't tell anyone else.'

Thanksgiving

Prin69;

Puzzlette;

E.A.V;

Who sent me lovely reviews quickly. What are the rest of you waiting for? Thanks lovelies!


	3. An Udder Failure

**The Reign Of Mummy**

"Pass that to Granger," muttered Draco, leaning across the desk to where Blaise Zabini sat, and discreetly handing him a folded pouch of white parchment.

Blaise gave him a delighted grin as his slim fingers clasped the note and tugged it from Draco's hand. As Draco leant back in his chair and gave a disarmingly charming smile to the Arithmancy professor, Blaise unfolded the parchment, and tipped it up over his palm. A chain slightered out onto his skin, cool and smooth as a snake's scales. It was white gold, joined with a clasp that reeked of magic and expensive manicures fastening it. Blaise gave a wide smirk as Draco answered the latest puzzle set to the class without looking up to check on the progress of the gift, and tucked the chain back into the note which he didn't bother trying to read – Draco had a nasty habit of spelling them unreadable to others.

"Granger," Blaise whispered almost silently, and blew on the ear that was closest to him, "from lover boy…"

"Oliver?" his desk mate looked most confused until Blaise jerked his thumb in the direction of the other Slytherin, "Oh, _him_."

She unwrapped the note cautiously, half expecting it to flame at her violently, and dropped the chain with barely a second glance onto their shared textbook, where it slipped into the spine. The note obviously displeased her, because Blaise didn't even have a chance to steal a glance over her arm before she curled it up and lobbed it remarkably accurately at Malfoy. It hit the back of his neck and dropped to the floor, where he steadfastedly ignored it. Blaise fished the chain out of the book and dangled it over one finger.

"Mummy won't be pleased," he breathed softly, and she gave him an incredulous look.

"Are you in on this too?" she murmured, turning the page as she did so.

"Oh yes," Blaise looked pleased, "didn't you _know_ that Draco and I are _best friends_?"

"Miss _Granger_," an annoyed voice spoke over their heads, "and Mr _Zabini_, could you keep this coversation to yourselves and out of school please."

"Yes professor Vector," they chorussed, "X, Y and F all equal 206.879."

"Yes, well," the surprised looking man stammered, "that seems to be correct."

"But sir," interrupted Malfoy smoothly, shooting displeased glares at them, "doesn't the quantum signal passed by F to X mean that the relation between X and M is 8.679243 thus changing the value of F?"

"No, no, no," Vector shook his elderly head disparginly, and began his drone on quantum signals again.

"Sir," Charles Banber dropped his contribution in smoothly, "it's twenty past ten – breaktime."

"Of course," Vector dropped his notes on the floor and by the time he had picked them up his class was packed up and staring wide eyed at him with all eight of their combined eyeballs, "well, dismissed. But Mr Malfoy," he fought to make himself heard over the sudden rush, "read up on quantum signals for tomorrow please!"

The note was kicked to the door in the scuffle for release, and promptly ignored. Outside in the corridor Hermione made a few desperate swipes for the chain that still hung around Blaise's finger. Charles waited patiently at the end of the corridor for her, having almost sprinted away from the classroom.

"Give it to her Z-Blaise," growled Draco, pulling his rucksack onto his bag and grimacing with annoyance at the weight.

"Since when have you stuck up for the _Chipmunk_?" came a delicate purr from the nearway hallway, and all three arithmancy students swung around.

Pansy Parkinson had just finished her free periods and had duly come up to collect Draco from the Arithmancy corridor, to his obvious displeasure. Despite being what almost every boy in the school termed a 'looker' (or, alternatively, a hooker, depending on the house and company in question) Pansy had large eyes only for Draco Malfoy, and, although they had stopped the immature batting of former years, they were still prone to melting away when he snapped at her into a messy puddle. She was flanked by the large and every-manly Bulstrode, grimacing and growling behind her. She flicked the shortest bits of platinum blonde hair out of her eyes and sashayed towards the group.

"Well Draco?" she pointed an auburn coloured nail twoards the startled looking Blaise, "Since when has _Zabini_ been _Blaise_?"

"Oh shut up," Draco snapped irrately.

"Don't call me Chipmunk, _Pug-Face_," Hermione threw in her tuppence.

Pansy reached up to her re-modelled nose and patted it in a comforting way, giving Hermione a superior grin, before swaying down the hallway on ridiculously high heels after Draco, who had loped off to the common room. Millicent slammed her fist against her palm before following Pansy, who had momentarily bent over giving the boys a great view of her long legs, like an obedient dog. Blaise wolf-whistled as soon as Pansy had passed round the corner, a dopey grin on his tanned face.

"Oh shut up," exclaimed the Gryffindor, snatching the chain off his fingers and marching towards Charles Banbar, still waiting patiently, but with a look of Pansy-induced longing on his handsome face, "it's all fake you know."

"Fake or not," Blaise commented absently down the corridor, "she's gorgeous."

"Boys!" Hermione contented herself with, dribbling off to the Head Meeting Room on the seventh floor with Charles following her neatly.

"New necklace Hermione?" Charles asked, riding the staircase daperly as it began to move.

"Oh," she answered absently, "I really ought to put it on I suppose."

"Here let me," the Head Boy offered, and took the chain from Hermione.

He pulled it over her head and swept her hair away from the back of her neck carefully, his fingers brushing against her skin slightly. The clasp was soon done up, and he smoothed her hair down again and re-folded the collar of her green shirt which was a little creased. She reached up to her neck and stroked the chain, surprised at the odd warmth it gave off.

"Thanks Charlie," she offered as payment, and smiled at him.

"Here, the clasp is sliding round," as he reached out to adjust the necklace there was a rather sharp sounding crackle, and he snatched his fingers back hurridly, "Ouch!" he exclaimed unhappily, glaring at the smooth metal.

"Electric shock?" Hermione asked, one hand on the rail as they dismounted the staircase.

The Banbars were a pureblooded family, thus Charles gave Hermione a puzzled look and merely followed her along the corridor to their meeting room.

"Ah, miss Granger," a bright voice sounded from behind them, and both Heads looked around.

Narcissa Malfoy was hurrying along the corridor dressed in a smart trouser suit with a neat dark green robe thrown on over the top, and at least two silk scarves trailing behind her. Her blonde hair was clipped back from her face a little, but still fell in sheets of wisps around her delicately made up face. A waft of expensive perfume surrounded her like a pleasant cloud. Eside the Head girl, Charles Banbar sucked in a cloud of air like an intoxicated mad.

"Hermione," greeted Narcissa, grasping the girl's elbow with a beamish smile, "Headmaster Dumbeldore wants you to show me my new teaching rooms – I'm afraid I got perfectly lost simply looking for you! I'm hopeless, really I am. Drakie despairs, but really, what can I do; I have the orientation of a fish."

"Oh, er," contributed Hermione helpfully.

"Seventh floor, he said, one of the towers – 89F? Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, I'm sure we'll find it Mrs Malfoy," the Gryffindor put a brave face on things, and shouldered her rucksack.

"Oh no dear," breathed Narcissa by her ear, "The delightful Mr – err – Babar will take your bag for you."

Charles bowed towards the two ladies, and flushed as Narcissa shot his a dazzling, thankful grin, which seemed to be aimed a good four feet above his left ear. Narcissa tugged the bag away from the young girl, and passed it to the boy, who received it gratefully. His fingers brushed Narcissa's, and a stammered an apology before stumbling off.

"Good grief," Narcissa began as soon as he rounded the corner, "is he always like that?"

"Charles? No, not really," Hermione answered, a little bemused.

"You have quite the effect on him," mused the older lady naively, "Be careful he doesn't try to pull anything – as far as he knows you're single."

Hermione almost fainted from shock at the wink Narcissa gave her, and remained pliant as she was tugged along the corridor towards the staircases. The bell buzzed cheerfully; the signal for the commencement of lessons, and a mournful sight rang out from the staircases and hallways where students had perched. With much groaning and bad language they trooped off for their lessons, the ones closest to the strict Head girl moving both first and the fastest.

"Seventh Floor," commanded Hermione to the nearest staircase, and with a slow grate it swung around and stretched upwards; a stone accordian.

"The perks to being a Headgirl," Narcissa sighed beside her, "and, of course, having your own room…"

Hermione was suitably scandalised for a moment as she realised what Mrs Malfoy was inferring, and then she shook her head violently.

"Oh no," she protested, "I would never!"

"Never?" Narcissa raised her eyebrows, "You've been together with Drakie, what, five months now?"

"Err, yes," she answered, thinking desperately, "it's just, well, I believe in celibacy until marriage."

"Too many men only want one thing," Narcissa smiled at her knowingly, and the blush which stained Hermione's cheeks wasn't induced in any way, "I hope Drakie respects that."

"Oh yes," gushed Hermione, trying desperately to end the coversation, "Yes definitely."

"Good," Narcissa replied, a proud smile on her pretty face, "and here's the seventh floor."

Three hours later Hermione almost sprinted out of the classroom she and Narcissa had been sorting out, half of her mind wanting to giggle frantically, and half of it wanting to spew violently. She lent weakly on the banister as she travelled downstairs towards the Great Hall where dinner was being served to the accompanyiment of the loud gong heralding every meal. She was a little dizzy due to the vast amounts of dust she had inhaled and the sheer height of the room.

"Hermione!" a voice called out a greeting, and she turned to see Ron running down a parallel imbedded staircase.

"Hey Ron," she greeted him, weariness sounding in her voice.

Ron Weasley had been attending a Care Of Magical Creatures double lesson, and smelt a little of steaming hot woodlice and other tasty morsels (at least, tasty to a Bowtruckle) intermingled with the smell of fresh air and sunshine. His hair was standing straight up from his head, and he looked as if he was pondering something deeply, watching a tall Ravenclaw with brown hair sway past them.

"D'you think I should ask Katie out?" he asked finally, walking beside her to dinner.

"Katie?" Hermione was puzzled.

"The Hufflepuff keeper," Ron sounded exasperated.

"Of course," was the only answer he received from his female best friend, who had sunk into a seat next to Harry Potter, "Pass the mashed potatoes please."

Neville Longbottom, sitting opposite them, passed the large bowl of pale cream mash and silver servers with a sypmathetic shaky smile. Apparantly Hermione's activities had been passed around the school until everyone now knew she was Professor Malfoy's assistant, and most of the school was sorry for her. Saemus passed her the broccoli and then served a pair of vegetarian burgers onto her plate with a gracious grin. Dean looked at her briefly and then lent over in a friendly gesture;

"Hey Hermione," he said, "What do you call a cow that doesn't milk?"

"_To milk_ is not a verb Dean," Hermione muttured, but the boy was undeterred.

"An _udder_ failure!" he roared, and all the boys around him snuffled laughter into their dinners; Ron spraying pumpkin juice over the table to the disgust of his fellow diners.


	4. The Fabulous Properties of Tea Tree Oil

**The Reign Of Mummy**

"Good morning Hermione" breezed Narcissa Malfoy happily, swooping into the Great Hall gleefully.

"What's with her?" Harry leant over to ask Hermione as she retreated up the gap between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

"What, apart from spending three hours yesterday talking about meanless junk, and telling me all about sex, and what Malfoys _apparantly_ enjoy? Nothing, I would think."

Harry looked totally disgusted, but not as disgusted as Hermione. She was sitting peacefully on the bench, nose half buried in a long novel about anarchy with a list of comparisons to the Death Eaters sitting by her right hand. Looking up briefly she caught sight of Pansy Parkinson entering the hall and frowned slighty as she went to sit next to Millicent Bulstrode. Malfoy was up at the staff table, leaning over the scrambled eggs and talking to his mother, who kept clapping her hands in excitement.

"Man, that _doesn't_ look good," Harry commented, seeing where her eyes strayed.

"I disagree," Dean Thomas, Lady's Man Extroadinaire, muttered leacherously, "that Malfoy chick's hot stuff."

"Eugh, Dean," Lavender, sitting next to him groaned, "she's at least fourty-nine."

"And related to Malfoy Jr," Ron commented, sitted down next to Harry.

Hermione attempted not to think about males, and why they felt the need to discuss females in front of other females, and instead helped herself to a bannana and nutmeg concoction. Her dark red shirt and vinatage jeans were comfortable and easy to move in, and a part of her was comfortable that she could outrun Narcissa if she tried to corner her again.

"What have you got first?" she asked Ron absently.

"Frees," he replied easily, "So does Katie."

"Ooooooh," Lavender replied in a sing-song voice.

"Are you going to ask her out?" Parvati, desperate for juicy gossip, leant over.

"Perhaps," Ron evaded the question, but his deep blush told Parvati and Lavender the answer they wanted to hear.

"Oh," Lavender pouted prettily, "soon they'll be no more gryffindor men left."

"What about Neville?" frowned Harry, motioning down the table to where Neville had absent mindedly sat away from his year group in the middle of some Hufflepuffs, "He hasn't got a girlfriend?"

"Hmmm," Lavender pretended to consider the suggestion, "Nooooo!"

There was silence for a moment while they all peered at Neville, who was now talking to a Hufflepuff first year about scrambled eggs.

"He _is_ a hopeless case," Hermione sighed in defence of Lavender's damning statement.

"Yeah," Dean jumped in with agreement, "there's always me."

"Mate," Harry whispered loudly enough for the group to hear, "you're currently seeing three Hufflepuffs _and_ a Ravenclaw."

Raucous laughter greeted this proclomation as Dean blushed berry red as his secret was let out.

"Although," Dean turned the subject on it's head, "I'd rather it was a certain Slytherin…"

The four boys let out little sighs as they watched Pansy Parkinson clout a fifth year boy across the head angrily, lips pursed tightly in annoyance. The girls rolled their eyes in impatience. Honestly, Parkinson really was just a cheap whore, wasn't she? It was sex appeal not beauty that drove the boys to her in flocks.

"Didn't know you fancied _Malfoy_, Dean," Hermione commented, standing up suddenly.

Lavender and Parvati giggled helplessly as Dean glared at the book-worm. She shrugged, and Harry stood up next to her before whispering in her ear;

"I doubt it's Dean he's heading over here to see."

"See you in Potions Saemus," she said hurridly to her lab partner, and almost raced out of the Great Hall. Behind her, Harry wolf whistled immaturely as Draco speeded up slightly, his robes flapping open to reveal the hint of leather trousers she _knew_ he would be wearing – his mother had yesterday mentioned how much she liked her baby boy in leather trousers.

"Oy!" he exclaimed angrily, and she ducked into an alcove, "Granger!"

"In here," she hissed at him, waving a hand at him.

The alcove was a tight fit for both of them, but neither of them proposed moving elsewhere for fear of being seen together. A bust of Windignus the Weird watching them in puzzlement.

"She said she'd talked to you yesterday?" he asked in a whisper.

"For three hours. And believe me Malfoy, I do not appreciate knowing the colour of your favourite edible body paint!" her voice shrilled suddenly.

"Edible body paint?" Windignus asked in a scratchy voice.

"Shut up you stupid statue," Malfoy snapped irately, "she was much better this morning," he gave, he supposed, what was a weak but happy smile, "didn't mention father at all."

"Well, that's good," Hermione conceded.

"However, she wants to see more of us together," he continued, "she wants us to show her around the grounds after lessons this afternoon."

"Damnation Malfoy!" she exclaimed unhappily, "I'm meant to be tutoring Neville in charms."

"Cancel him," Malfoy said with determination, "The day after tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's untimely decease."

"Now, that is one thing I will not do!"

"Oh?"

"Admit your father's decease was untimely. Don't even pretend you weren't glad to get ride of him as well. Besides, he was about to blast me backwards into a grape pressing machine at the time."

"But you'll cancel Longbottom?" conceded Malfoy hopefully, mixing a little puppy dogs into the mixture although he knew he had already won.

"Yes, but only because your mother's, well, decent at least."

"Good Gryffindor," purred Draco happily, and patted her cheek in mock affection.

"Get off my Malfoy!" she snapped, pushing his hand away, "Go and find Parkinson or something."

"Oh, but I've had Parkinson already," sighed Malfoy as she fought her way out of the alcove's heavy curtain, "And _you_, well, is it true what mother told me? _Celibate_ until _marriage_ Granger?

"Oooooh, shut up!" she hissed in pure anger, "This is _your_ fault!"

"Hermione?" came a call from further down the hallway, and Hermione unconciously reached up to check her hair.

Draco grinned at this action; he had seen girls doing it enough after he'd closeted them somewhere like this little nook, but he hadn't expected Granger to do it. A sudden temptation to twist the situation a little to his amusement came over him; after all, Granger had been no trouble so far had she? He reached out from the heavily curtained area, and smacked her rear end with the fingers of his right hand. Hermione leapt four foot into the air, and straight into the arms of Saemus Finnigan, who had come to meet her before Potions due to his uncertainty over tea tree leaves and their properties.

"Oh, err, hi Saemus," she stuttered, and Draco smothered a laugh.

"Hermione! Finnigan was almost surprised as Granger had been, "Tea tree oil, what are the properties?"

"Bye bye girlfriend," Draco whispered very softly, as Finnigan began reciting the uses he could remember.

"Shut up ferret face," she hissed, and Finnigan looked around startled.

"Wha'?" he said rather dopily.

"Gets rid of facial blemishes," Hermione covered smoothly.

"See you this afternoon," he murmured as he vacated the alcove and stomped past her, giving her a gentle push.

"Hey!" Finnigan protested, but Draco had swirled out of sight around the corner.

The evening was fresh and clear. The sky above the three figures was clear cold blue, and the sun warmed them only a little. Mid way through July it may have been, but warm in Scotland it would never be. There was a cool breeze chilling the lake's surface into peaks.

"It must be so hard," Narcissa said rather happily once she had judged they were far enough away from the castle, "having to keep your relationship a secret."

"Mother, you have _no_ idea," Draco said earnestly, leaning on the edge of the wall of the tiny boathouse they were currently standing on.

"Oh sweetums," Narcissa cooed, "Only two weeks until term ends."

"A week and a half," Hermione corrected absently.

"And then we'll be free," Draco tried to insert some promise into his voice as he leaned closer to Hermione under his mother's beady eyes.

"Er, yeah," Hermione moved a little further away from him, and then noticed Narcissa's puzzled glance, "Draco, we're only a matter of five hundred metres of so away from the Lake, where anyone can walk. This is too open."

"Of course, divinity," he answered, presenting her with a pet name and pleasing his mother.

"Now tell me," Narcissa began again, a little sympathetic, "what will you do after term ends?"

The two cleverest students in the school looked at each other in horror, and thought very quickly.

"Hey! Hermione!" a loud cry burst through the group, and Hermione sighed in relief.

Ron and Harry were bounding towards them, Ron in particular looking very pleased with himself. Harry was carrying Hermione's stripey red and yellow jumper; once dusk fell it became rather cold, and dusk was creeping up on them. He nodded a greeting to the two remaining Malfoys as Ron seized Hermione around the middle and lifted her up, spinning her in dizzying circles until both felt ill. Hermione leant against Harry for support, laughing a little.

"Good afternoon boys," Narcissa greeted, clutching Draco's hand in what she thought was a grip that would restrain him from attacking Ron.

"Afternoon Professor Malfoy," Harry replied politely, giving her a largely false smile, "Afternoon Malfoy."

"In case it has escaped you, Potter," spat Malfoy unhappily, "It's evening."

"Herms," Ron asked Hermione eagerly, beginning to tug her away from the group, "what are you doing?"

"Just giving Mrs malfoy a tour of the grounds," she answered, noticing Malfoy's knuckles going white from the pressure his mother was holding his hand with.

"Oh," Ron answered a little moodily, "C'mon, this is as far as you can go anyway. Let's go back to the common room. I have important news."

"Alright," agreed Hermione, and Ron bounded ahead of them a little, like an over-anxious dog waiting to be exercised, "Bye Mrs Malfoy, bye – Malfoy."

She had winked as she said Malfoy, he noticed, and half blown a kiss over her shoulder. Man, she really was good at acting whever she wasn't startled. Narcissa waved at her a little, and the threesome were not far out of sight when a delighted roar broke the peace descending over the lakeside.

"_Katie agreed to go out with me_!" roared the voice of Ron Weasley, jubilantly, his voice ringing out over the still Hogwarts grounds.

"Well, at least someone's happy smoochums," Narcissa said a tad moodily, linking arms with her son and smiling at him, "Nevermind, only until the end of term."

"Mummy," Draco snapped, "I don't want to talk about it."

Narcissa looked surprised, a little embarassed, and also upset. Draco immediately felt horribly guilty, his insides twisting up a little, and he leant up to kiss her cheek in apology.

"Sorry mum," he murmured softly, "it's just so hard, y'know?"

"Of course I do honey pie," Narcissa replied, giving him a one armed hug as they leant against the wall, "And I'm so proud of you."

From over the line of trees Hermione's laughter rang out jubilantly, and Potter's barking sound of amusement. The two Malfoys stood together, and watched the lights flicker on in the windows of Hogwarts School, each consummed in a feeling of guilt they wouldn't ever voice.

Author's Note:

Thankyou so much to everyone who reviewed.

And here's the first mention of what happens after school…mark it well.

Oh, what do you think about Windignus The Weird? He's my pet charcter currently. Isn't he cute? I mean, for a bust.


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